


We haven't lost it all yet

by whynotcherries



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Manhattan, Past Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 19:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19892758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynotcherries/pseuds/whynotcherries
Summary: manhattan, kind of twisted.





	We haven't lost it all yet

**Author's Note:**

> this is a rewrite of something that i wrote a while ago that was totally unrealistic and it turned out basically the same as the episode, so...

_“There’s a bar down the street, we can talk there."_

She shouldn’t have agreed- well, she shouldn’t have _begrudgingly_ agreed. Now, she’s stuck sitting across from him, silently, _awkwardly_ , while she waits for him to start the conversation- he owes that to her. He owes a lot to her. 

“So, you wanted to talk, start talking,” he prompts- not quite the start she was hoping for, but she’ll take it if she has to. 

She’s ready to jump- she’s already got her first question in mind and she’s rolling with it. “Did you know who I was when we met?” her eyes are already- _already_ \- starting to sting and heaven forbid she starts crying. 

He shakes his head, his hands wrapped around his mug, his head tilted to stare down at it, to avoid her eyes and keep his feelings, all of that guilt in check, “If I had, I wouldn’t have gone near you,” he shrugs, building the courage to look up at her, to see what she’s feeling- or how she’s presenting how she’s feeling.

“Come on,” she slams her phone down on the counter- she’s angry, to say the least, but there’s even more there. She’s crying- not openly, but there are tears. 

That’s not helping his own situation with the feelings- “Come on? Come on _what_?” he asks- guilt presenting as _anger_. Fantastic. “I was in hiding. I was trying to- to get away from all of that crap,” he defends, gesturing away from himself.

She slumps down on the stool, trying to keep herself in check, to keep herself as small and as contained as possible. She’s already made scenes in public over him, she doesn’t plan on making any more, “I- so you didn’t love me, then. If you regret having met me, if you’re upset that I ruined your plan to never have to interact with your father again,” tears are actually, really falling now. Slowly, but they’re there.

The anger is gone now, now it’s all just _guilt_. It’s all on display now, all the pain he caused her. “I did love you- I do love you. I just- my dad. You’ve met him, right? He’s not the kindest person- he’s also not a great father…” he explains, “I didn’t wanna leave you, Em, I just-”.

Her head snaps up, “Don’t call me that.”

He looks down at the counter, somewhat ashamed- he should’ve _known_ that she wouldn’t want that- “Sorry. I- I was trying to get away from him. When August found me, he told me about you, about how you were a princess. I would’ve never even dreamed that I would fall in love with a princess, and he told me about your parents, and how they never wanted any of this to happen, and that you could _find_ them,” his voice has gone down, he’s practically whispering.

She wipes her eyes- she tilts her head down, avoiding his gaze, “I couldn’t have begun to imagine that you’d want to give up that for me. He showed up, he told me about that, and about my father, and I couldn’t have gone back and risked you finding your parents.”

She shakes her head, standing and taking her phone back- she’s done. “I would’ve picked you,” she tells him, adjusting her scarf and her jacket, “It doesn’t matter anymore, though. I’ve moved on. Come on, you have to talk to your dad, I wanna get out of here,” she sighs, waiting for him to stand.

“Emma, you don’t have to-” 

“I made a deal with him, and I’m upholding my end. It’s the _right_ thing to do,” she starts to walk towards the door, slowly, waiting for him to follow her. She won’t give him any other choice. 

He puts out some money on the bar, “Tell him you lost me, that you couldn’t find me. You do that, and you never have to see me again.”

It should be easy. She’s spent years waiting for him, trying to find him so that she could do one thing- hit him so hard she broke his jaw. Now, though, now that she’s found him and he’s in front of her, she’s not too keen on the idea of never seeing him again. But she is. 

She nods, walking backwards towards the door, feeling gratitude, for some odd reason. Gratitude that he’s letting her go, that he’s given her an out, one last time. 

“Deal,” and the door’s open. 

“Emma,” she stops, looking up, wondering _what now?_ “I really do love you.”

Not knowing what to say, she opens the door and walks out.

\---------------------------------

It was stupid of her to think that she’d have it easy from this point on. Stupid of her to think that Gold would accept that she lost him and that she wouldn’t be able to find him again. That she ‘didn’t know who he was’.

Suddenly, he’s through the door to his own apartment and he’s screaming. To defend her. 

Nothing about that doesn’t remind her of their days together, how they’d promised to take care of each other. 

He did break his promise, but he’s also saving her from getting her butt kicked by a man with a cane. A crippled man- _Rumplestiltskin_ \- without magic.

\----------------------------------

He offered to let them stay with him. Which is good, since she really had planned this as a one-day sort of trip, and she had planned on booking a hotel last minute.

Somehow, she ended up sharing the bed with him. Not somehow- she’d _agreed_ to it. But still.

“I missed you, you know,” she’s lying on her stomach and holding herself up by leaning on her elbows.

He props himself up against the back wall- his bed doesn’t have a headboard. What kind of bed doesn’t have a headboard? 

“I missed you, too,” he whispers, and then there’s silence for a while. 

“I regretted leaving you. Every day. I kept wondering if it would’ve been worth it for you. If you’d rather had been with me, if you would’ve been better off with me, if you were better how it was. And I kept thinking, ‘if I look for her and I go to her, will she still want me’?”

She sits up higher, looking up at him, “I would’ve. I looked for you for… _God_ knows how long,” she whispers, “I was hoping that you were looking for me, too. I kept trying to convince that it was some fluke, that you hadn’t _meant_ to, but you did. I knew you did,” she leans forwards, resting her head on her arm.

“I wish I hadn’t,” he sighs, “I didn’t plan it, I just-”

“I know,” there’s more silence and she wishes that this would stop happening, “are you coming to Storybrooke with us?”

He looks down at her, eyebrows raised, “Am I invited?” he chuckles, trying to make light of it, trying to pretend that he doesn’t care as much as he does.

“If you’ll stay this time,” she glares at him, only kind of joking.

“I will. Nothing could stop me now.”


End file.
